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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23518819">Eternal Bliss</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sstensland/pseuds/sstensland'>sstensland</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Crash Pad (2017), Kylux adjacents - Fandom, Logan Lucky (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adam Driver/Domhnall Gleeson Character Combinations, Anal Sex, Inexperienced Clyde, M/M, One Night Stand, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, alcohol consumption, kylux adjacent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 14:00:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,199</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23518819</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sstensland/pseuds/sstensland</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn't know what to expect from this. All he knew that Mellie kept insisting he go. That maybe he would, well, go home with someone. Maybe he’d even find the one. If he manages to work up the courage to even talk to someone. He doesn't know how Mellie can do it; she makes it seem easy. </p><p>-- </p><p>Or, Clyde and Stensland meet at a bar and hook up.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Clyde Logan/Stensland (Crash Pad)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Into the Adjacentverse: Kylux Adjacents Month 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Eternal Bliss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
He is fascinating. 
</p><p>
Intoxicating, really. Clyde has never seen anyone like him. Or, perhaps, he has, but has never had the opportunity to notice. He’s been too busy with work and laying down low. Tonight is the first night he actually has had for himself and Mellie has actually convinced him to go <em>out</em>. 
</p><p>
Out in a bar that he <em>thought</em> was new, but turns out that it’s been open for the last year and a half. It’s not bad. Not really. It’s nothing like Duck Tape. Louder, darker, flashier. There’s more people. More commotion. Anxiety hums under the surface of his skin. He shouldn’t be here. Not alone at any rate.
</p><p>
(He’s gay, and still coming to terms with it. Mellie knows, because, well, he’d be damned if he keeps a secret from Mellie. He reckons Jimmy knows, but has been considerate enough to not say anything. Family was good for that. Sometimes.
</p><p>
(But, Mellie pushing him out to a gay bar all alone… it left him uneasy, hesitant. Like he didn’t belong here.) 
</p><p>
Still, he sits at the bar, eyes locked on the mop of red hair flopping around on the dance floor. The man arrived about half an hour after he sat down and Clyde is pretty sure that he hasn’t left the dance floor the whole time. It's impressive. A part of Clyde wishes he could have that confidence to go out there and dance by himself. (If you could call what this man was doing <em>dancing</em>.) Heck, Clyde wishes he had the confidence of a lot of people here: the bartenders with their fishnet tops and bare skin, the fellas walking around in their tight speedos as they parade jello shots and every person out on that dance floor, happy and carefree. If he ever has days like that, he can't recall them, but he's sure he would miss them if he did. 
</p><p>
The reds and greens and blues of the lights decorate the man. Highlight the sharp edges of his cheekbones. Emphasizes the soft curves of his lips. 
</p><p>
Clyde takes a long swig of his beer. 
</p><p>
He didn't know what to expect from this. All he knew that Mellie kept insisting he go. That maybe he would, well, go home with someone. Maybe he’d even find <em>the one</em>. If he manages to work up the courage to even <em>talk </em>to someone. He doesn't know how Mellie can do it; she makes it seem easy. 
</p><p>
After ordering another beer from the perhaps too attractive bartender, he decides that he'll go home. Maybe book a room for the night if this beer hits him harder than he intends. It shouldn't be the case, he has drunk more than this and been fine, but you can never be too careful. 
</p><p>
Something crashes into him. At first, he sees the flash of red hair. 
</p><p>
Then pale skin. 
</p><p>
Then the large fist that is aiming at that scared face. 
</p><p>
Clyde reacts before he realizes.
</p><p>
His (good) hand reaches out and grabs the hand before it lands home. The stranger looks stunned. They both do. Clyde probably does as well. 
</p><p>
"Is there a problem?" Clyde asks, gaining confidence, as he guides the hand downward, careful to keep a steady grip over the fist. 
</p><p>
"Are you with Red here?"
</p><p>
“Yes.” It comes out before he can even process the question. “So, if there’s a problem, you’re gonna have to deal with me.” 
</p><p>
The stranger looks at thim, gaze intense. Sizes him up. He lingers over the tattoo adorned across Clyde’s forearm. The symbol of all the things he’s done and seen and can’t talk about. A blessing and a curse. Just like everyone else, the stranger backs away, forcing his arm out of Clyde’s grip. 
</p><p>
(He’s not ashamed anymore. If people want to judge him, that’s not on him. They don’t know him.) 
</p><p>
“Make sure he stops hitting on my boyfriend, yeah?” 
</p><p>
There’s more written there, in his features. Clyde had been trained to tell. Interrogations were his specialties, he guesses. Learned early on that he had a knack for getting information out of people. It was easier to do, after a while, when the body count started getting too high. 
</p><p>
But those days were in the past. 
</p><p>
He’s moved on. 
</p><p>
He turns back to his beer. Takes a swig. Feels the prickle against his neck that lets him know he’s being watched. And he is. When he turns his head, the dancer boy is still there. Those eyes — blue? green? it’s hard to make out in this lighting — stare at him in a doe-like wonder. Clyde wants to say something. A compliment, perhaps, or a greeting. At least then he could tell Mellie he at least <em>talked</em> to someone when she grills him tomorrow. 
</p><p>
But his mouth feels dry. Tongue heavy. His nerves run on high, tingling under his skin. It was a bad idea, getting involved. He should have minded his own damn business. Should have never let the pretty boy with his scared wide eyes command his instincts. 
</p><p>
He’s a loner for a reason. 
</p><p>
“Thank you,” the stranger says at some point that might have been seconds or minutes later. “I thought I was going to get a shiner for sure. Had one a few months ago and I do <em>not</em>  want to relive that memory. Truth is, I wasn’t even hitting on his boyfriend — not my type. I was apologizing for running into him when he came over and overreacted. He’s not even my <em>type</em>, but anyway, thank you. Can I buy you a drink?” 
</p><p>
Clyde blinks. Looks at the pretty stranger again. There’s hope in those eyes. Delicate and fragile hope that has no right being there. It was a mistake, this stranger talking to him. He knows well enough he should go home or to a hotel or something. He told himself he would, but he’s stuck by that gaze. 
</p><p>
“Sure,” he finally agrees. 
</p><p>
The smile that appears on the stranger’s face is contagious; he feels the corners of his lips twitch up just the slightest. 
</p><p>
It’s probably the closest thing to a smile he’s had all day. 
</p><p>
The stranger waves down the bartender and orders himself a cosmo while Clyde orders another beer. Is it a mistake? Probably. There had been a lot of mistakes in his life lately. Maybe he should go along with them. Or, perhaps, it was the curse coming back for him. 
</p><p>
“I’m Stensland, by the way,” the stranger says before taking a sip of his drink. 
</p><p>
“Clyde.” 
</p><p>
“I knew a Clyde once,” Stensland muses. “Not nearly as attractive as you, though.” 
</p><p>
He nearly chokes on his drink. “Pardon?” 
</p><p>
“Hm?” 
</p><p>
“Nothin’.” He goes back to his beer. Ignores his thundering heart. Funny, he thinks, how he could easily shoot a man he’s never met before point blank, but talking to someone seemed like an impossible task.
</p><p>
A silence lingers between them for a second. Clyde swears he can feel the beat of bass pulse through him, dictating the erratic pace of his heart. He needs to get over himself; he knows that much. Knows he needs to let his shoulders relax, let his spine loosen. It isn’t like he is dealing with a live explosive— though, he could argue it is something much worse. An explosive, he could deal with the consequences, already was. Humans, living, unpredictable, left his anxiety on high and left him drained. 
</p><p>
Coming here was a bad idea. 
</p><p>
“I saw you,” Stensland states, “watching me out there.” 
</p><p>
He freezes temporarily. “Yeah?” 
</p><p>
“Yeah.”
</p><p>
“Well,” he starts, finding himself unable to look at the boy next to him. “You were puttin’ on quite the show.” 
</p><p>
He still feels that prick of being watched. He needs to finish his beer. Need to finish it off, thank the man for buying him a drink, and be on his way. 
</p><p>
Really, he can’t do this. Despite having watched it dozens upon dozens of times, picking someone up from the bar wasn’t his style. He liked conversation. Liked being clear minded and level headed. This was neither of those. 
</p><p>
The man next to him sighs and sets his glass down on the counter. When Clyde looks at him, he sees that he’s looking right at him. And, had he moved closer? Or was that just Clyde’s imagination?
</p><p>
“I’ll be straight with you,” he starts with his unusual accent, “I was hoping you would be interested.”
</p><p>
Clyde blinks, shocked. Heat rises to the surface of his skin. And, well, having a closer look, he might very well be interested. His skin looks soft. His lips, too. And maybe he’s more than a bit curious. It’s been a while. At least since he had been briefly stationed in England and was lucky enough to take a trip into the city, visit a pub. That had been the night of his awakening, he thinks. 
</p><p>
Looking back at Stensland— yeah, he could be interesting. 
</p><p>
“Depends what you’re askin’, I suppose.” 
</p><p>
Stensland finishes off his drink like it’s a lifeline. He puts it down with more confidence than before. He takes a deep breath before he says, “We can go back to my place, or yours. I’m sorry for being blunt, but I’m tired of beating around the bush and getting nowhere.” 
</p><p>
Clyde takes a slow drink of his beer, measured, calculated. His gaze stays steady and focused on the lines of bottes behind the counter. His cock stirs, briefly, at the idea. Though, perhaps, he should know better. Whoever he ended up with was bound to be disappointed. His awkward fumble in England could hardly be called experience, and he’s doubted much has come from his desperate late nights with the toys he hastily bought online either. 
</p><p>
But, maybe, in the end, it wouldn’t hurt. He could learn a thing or two tonight. It wasn’t like he was getting any love at home at any rate. Sneaking off with someone at a gay bar across state lines was plenty good. 
</p><p>
What did he have to lose? 
</p><p>
He looks over at Stensland again once he’s finished the beer, setting the empty bottle on the counter. That confidence that the man had worked for has started to fade, weathered away at the corners of his facade despite his tall stance. 
</p><p>
 “Yours,” Clyde insists as he stands from his seat, perhaps a bit more unsteady than he would have liked. 
</p><p>
The Stensland guy doesn’t seem to notice. Just smiles at the acceptance like a desperate school boy. Maybe all this would be a mistake. Maybe he would go back home disappointed. It is a possibility. Though, as he follows Stensland, he can’t be bothered to care. The less he worries or expects from this, the more he can enjoy himself. 
</p><p>
He expects Stensland to lead him to a car, but instead, when they get outside, Clyde feels his balance go off kilter and his back hits against the building. In front of him, Stensland stands with his hands on either side of Clyde. 
</p><p>
“Sorry,” he says, and Clyde might actually believe him, “I need to do something first.” 
</p><p>
Then, without any hesitation, Stensland leans forward and those lips are on his. It’s nicer than what Clyde imagined. There’s a steady weight on his hip as Stensland grips it. Clyde lifts his hand up and cups Stensland’s jaw, fingers curling along his neck, feels the sticky wet sweat still clinging to his skin. 
</p><p>
Stensland hums. Licks into Clyde’s mouth. 
</p><p>
Clyde has no idea what he’s doing, but it must be something right as Stensland pulls their bodies flush together. His teeth nip at Clyde’s bottom lip, making him groan, his fingers gripping soft skin. There’s a heat settling under his skin, adrenaline pumping through his veins. 
</p><p>
Fingers find their way into his hair, tugging at his hair. Stensland does something with his tongue and Clyde forgets how to <em>breathe</em>. 
</p><p>
Instinctually, his hips push into Stensland’s, desperate for contact, attention, anything. Stensland obliges. Their bodies flush and the antagonising slow grind of those hips, of the growing bulge sliding against his. Clyde gasps. Shudders.
</p><p>
Stensland pulls away, panting for breath. Pupils wide, cheeks flushed. Clyde’s sure he looks just the same. 
</p><p>
If Stensland is disappointed in his attempts, he doesn’t say anything. Instead just smiles in a sloppy, crooked way. 
</p><p>
“Come with me,” he says as he grabs for Clyde’s hand. 
</p><p>
Dumbly, Clyde follows him. Maybe he should ask where they’re headed. Make sure that Stensland isn’t leading him off to his death. At this point, he isn’t even sure if it would matter. 
</p><p>
Thankfully, Stensland leads them to a hotel right around the corner. 
</p><p>
They’re barely in the door when Clyde’s back is against the wall again. Those lips are on his again. Rougher now, more aggressive. Teeth bite into his lip and he manages to have the coordination to lift Stensland up. Wrap those impossibly long legs around his waist. Stensland gasps into his mouth, a hand tangling into his hair as he carries him over toward the bed. 
</p><p>
The act itself is less graceful than Clyde would like, but Stensland makes no protest. Just keeps the hungry force in his kisses. His back hits the bed and he slides his fingers down Clyde’s chest, tugging his shirt out from his jeans, sliding his hands underneath the shirt along his bare skin.
</p><p>
Clyde’s hands desperately move to take off Stensland’s shirt, letting their lips part for only the brief second. The expanse of pale skin almost proves too much for him as he slides his fingers down. Carefully, unsure, he thumbs over a nipple. Stensland lets out a low groan, arching his back into the touch. 
</p><p>
Stensland’s skin is soft and smooth under his touch, addicting. His heart pounds in his chest. He hopes he doesn’t mess this up. Hopes his hand doesn’t tremble too much as he explores every inch of skin he can as Stensland arches into his hand. Continues to hungirly kiss him. 
</p><p>
Awkwardly, he fumbles with the button of Stensland’s jeans. Struggles more than he would care to admit as the button slips from his fingers. Maybe he should feel embarrassed— he certainly feels frustrated — by the show of inexperience, or maybe he should come clean right here and now. Tell Stensland that he’s only done this once before and add the whole night to his pile of bad luck and misfortunes. 
</p><p>
But— a sudden movement catches him off guard and soon, he’s on his back. 
</p><p>
His breath comes in pants as his head hits against the soft cushion of the bed and Stensland starts a trail of kisses down Clyde’s neck. Fingers work— expertly, Clyde notices — on the buttons of his shirt. Those lips follow the newly exposed path down his chest. 
</p><p>
Heat erupts through him as careful, talented fingers twist at his nipple and teeth graze along his hip. A low, desperate whine creeps past his lips as his hips thrust upward, into those lips pressing his skin. Stensland wastes no time in undoing Clyde’s jeans, shimmying them off him. Leaving him naked, exposed. A cold chill in the room sends a shudder down his spine. His cock throbs between his legs, hard and ready. 
</p><p>
For a second, he thinks that maybe they should slow down. Realistically, he would have liked to get to know Stensland a little more. Find out his last name at least. Maybe talk for a few hours before leading into this or — 
</p><p>
“Fuck,” Stensland nearly moans.
</p><p>
Wet hot heat wraps around him. Engulfs him. Makes him forget every thought that was in his head. The sound that emits past his lips is anything but dignified. 
</p><p>
It’s been too long. Far, far too long. He should have warned Stensland. Should have let him go or even declined this whole night. But the heat is so, so good. 
</p><p>
His head sinks into the bed. His hand weaves into that red hair. Gentle, at first. testing, and then he feels the back of Stensland’s throat — feels that tightening suction wrapping around him — and he grips tight, hips bucking up before he can control himself. 
</p><p>
Stensland’s hands immediately land on Clyde’s hips as he pulls off, coughing just a bit.
</p><p>
"Easy there, tiger," he rasps out with what Clyde hopes is amusement. 
</p><p>
"Sorry, sorry." Fuck. He's fucking this up. This is why he doesn't do this. This is why he keeps to himself. Doesn't go to bars. Doesn't indulge in his sexual curiosities becau—
</p><p>
The heat is back. He takes in a shaky breath and steadies himself this time. Stensland doesn’t appear to be going as hard this time either, but that doesn’t stop the delicious arousal that takes over him. Doesn’t stop his hand from sliding onto Stensland’s head again and gently guiding him. 
</p><p>
He wants to look. Wants to watch Stensland’s head bob on his cock. But, he’s afraid that if he does, it will all end now. He’s already so close. So dangerously close . 
</p><p>
It was a mistake getting wrapped up in this. 
</p><p>
But he can’t think about that. 
</p><p>
Not now. Not here. 
</p><p>
Not with that delicious wet heat around him. 
</p><p>
He nearly loses it when he feels teasing fingers against his balls, making their way until he feels a pressure behind them; Stensland must know of some magic because his vision spots for a second as the pleasure almost proves too much.
</p><p>
He moans out louder than he intends, hitching when Stensland hums around him when he tightens his grip in his hair. 
</p><p>
Stensland pulls off of him, and only then does Clyde dare look at him. At those pupil blown eyes. At the flush gracing his skin. At the mess his hair has become from Clyde’s fingers. 
</p><p>
(He doesn’t think about how beautiful he looks.) 
</p><p>
Hastily, Stensland takes off the rest of his clothes, throwing them off somewhere. Clyde lifts himself onto his elbows, watching as the man digs through a bag in the chair in the corner. Eyes focusing in on the expanse of skin in front of him, at the plump curve of his ass. 
</p><p>
“Like what you see?” Stensland teases when he stands back up and notices Clyde. 
</p><p>
“I do.” He does a lot, in fact. 
</p><p>
Stensland laughs as he makes his way back over to the bed. Clyde can’t keep his eyes off of him. Tossing whatever he grabbed from the bag onto the bed, Stensland straddles his waist. Teasingly, their cocks rub together for a brief second and Clyde’s falters. He reaches out to grab onto Stensland’s hips as Stensland grabs either side of Clyde’s face and pulls him in for another kiss. 
</p><p>
He nibbles at Clyde’s bottom lip as one hand reaches out onto the bed. Clyde doesn’t pay much attention to what he’s doing, too focused on those lips on his, taking a cue from the man and letting his tongue tease at Stensland’s bottom lip. 
</p><p>
He’s barely aware that both of Stensland’s hands are gone. Doesn’t even acknowledge the sound of something ripping. Not until he feels the condom being rolled down his shaft. Clyde groans at the contact, lips pausing over Stensland’s as he grips onto his hip. 
</p><p>
The sound of a cap popping soon follows. And then, the hand is back on him, wrapping around his shaft and stroking with a feverish purpose. Heat captures every part of him, igniting him from the inside out. He rests his forehead against Stensland’s, breath coming out in heavy pants. 
</p><p>
And then the hand is gone. And he flutters his eyes open just in time to watch as Stensland slowly — <em>slowly</em> — slides down onto his cock. Every thought in his head fades to black. His breathing hitches and all he can feel is the tight heat that’s around him. 
</p><p>
“Sweet Mary, mother of Jesus,” he pants out as he seats himself in Clyde’s lap, “you’re fucking <em>huge</em>.” 
</p><p>
That almost got a chuckle out of Clyde; he attempts it anyway but unsure if it actually worked. He couldn’t focus on that. Not while he is so deep inside of Stensland he thinks he might explode. 
</p><p>
Stensland takes a second, adjusts himself. He pulls Clyde in for a brief kiss before his hands slide onto his chest and push him back onto the bed. Clyde desperately tries to reach up and kiss those sweet lips again, but Stensland is gone. He sits upright with both his hands on Clyde’s chest. And slowly, so, so torturously slow, he lifts himself up. 
</p><p>
His descent is almost just as slow until, at that last second, he quickens. He slams back down as he starts to build a steady rhythm. 
</p><p>
Clyde can’t think. Everything is heat, and friction, and pleasure. 
</p><p>
A slew of curses slip past his lips; words he didn’t even know he knew. 
</p><p>
Lazily, he opens his eyes and watches Stensland. Watches as he bounces in his lap, red spread across his pale skin, lips parted as he moans out obscenities, cock bobbing between his legs. 
</p><p>
<em>Gorgeous</em>, Clyde thinks before his eyes slip shut again and he moans. 
</p><p>
His fingers grip Stensland’s thigh; the others, the ones with no feeling, no physical attachment to him, hover at his hip. And he wishes — wishes more than anything — that he could feel the bone under them. 
</p><p>
Slowly, he realizes that he can. 
</p><p>
He slides his hand up Stensland’s thigh. Caresses around his hip. Presses his thumb against the jutting bone. Stensland moans out louder now, desperate, as Clyde helps guide him, quickening his pace, as his hips thrust up to meet Stensland half way.  
</p><p>
It’s desperation, the urgency, the need to let loose, that guides him now. 
</p><p>
Frantic, his hips drive upward, greeted with a scandalous moan. Stensland loses his steady pace, his balance; his moves sloppy now. Clyde can feel the heat on his skin, the sweat slicking over him. He watches through hazed eyes as Stensland secures one hand on Clyde’s chest while the other one reaches between his legs and — oh. 
</p><p>
Clyde should help with that. 
</p><p>
He meets Stensland’s hand on his cock. For a brief second, Stensland looks at him through hazed eyes before he removes his hand. 
</p><p>
“Fucking — <em>fuck</em>,” he moans as Clyde wraps a firm grip around him and thrusts into him. 
</p><p>
His own movements become sloppy, uncoordinated, and he focuses on trying to build a good synch between his thrusts and his fist. He works desperately. His mind is a fog. The heat grabs a hold of him and pushes him closer and closer to the edge. 
</p><p>
But he won’t. 
</p><p>
He’ll focus on Stensland for now. Because that’s what a considerate lover would do. 
</p><p>
A pair of lips find his briefly. A chaste kiss before Stensland moans out his name. 
</p><p>
Clyde gives a few more encouraging pumps of his fist before Stensland gasps, stilling on his cock, and Clyde feels the hot, sticky strains littering his chest. 
</p><p>
He takes a few breaths before he thrusts back into Stensland, chasing after his own release that follows soon after. 
</p><p>
Heart pounding, he relaxes into the mattress. He feels light, fuzzy. He barely notices Stensland climbing off of him and disappearing into the bathroom as he steadies himself. 
</p><p>
Maybe this wasn’t such a mistake, after all. 
</p><p>
The weight of something landing on his chest catches him off guard. When he looks down, he sees a towel there. 
</p><p>
“Figured you’d like to clean yourself up,” Stensland explains as he walks out of the bathroom. 
</p><p>
Clyde nods lazily, bunching the towel into his fist and wiping the come streaks off his chest. It’s with effort that he manages to get out of the bed and stumble into the bathroom. Running the faucet, he splashes his face with cold water before disposing of the condom and giving himself a better clean up. 
</p><p>
Briefly, he catches his reflection in the mirror. Call him crazy, but… he looks different. He stands taller, confident, but it’s all in his mind, he’s sure. 
</p><p>
Stensland’s already on the bed when he returns to the main room. Awkwardly, he stands there for a second before asking, “Uh, do you mind if I stay?” 
</p><p>
Stensland looks at him for a second. Eyes taking in all of him. “Mi casa es tu casa.” 
</p><p>
“Thanks.” He smiles softly before making his way back to the bed. His heart is still racing when he lays down on the bed and stares up at the ceiling. He still wonders if Stensland will change his mind and send him on his way. That would have been fine. This was just a one night stand, after all. Clyde would head back to West Virginia in the morning and never see Stensland again. Maybe. Who knows. Maybe he’ll take the trip out here more often now that he’s gotten a little taste for it. 
</p><p>
Letting his eyes slip shut, he lets himself bask in the feeling that’s taken over him; the afterglow. He sighs, contently, and laughs at any thought he had about this being a mistake. 
</p><p>
When he wakes in the morning, with a cup of hotel coffee on the nightstand next to him and an arm around his waist and the light press of lips against his neck, he knows it wasn’t a mistake at all. 
</p>
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